A frown was on my face as Jón entered the house and closed the door with a loud bang. When alone I was excited for the child that now grew inside of me, but when I was in the presence of my husband I was filled with despair. It was evident that Jón did not care for me, but how would he feel for our child? It was his soul along with mine that had created this child, surely he would feel as a father should.

Days passed after speaking with Lára and the heavy snowfall Astrid spoke of covered the village and surrounding hills. Coldness seeped through the walls of our house and even with the fire blazing brightly, a chill was ever present. The high snow blocked the door the morning after, but Jón had cleared a path, placing the snow into barrels for us to have fresh water. Scarcely anyone would come out of their houses and it seemed I was stuck with Jón for three days.

But the snowfall had soon left us and I saw less of my husband. I did not know where he left to during the day, but a small part of my mind feared it was to see María. Rarely did I go to any place that was not my home or Lára's. Even as the wife of the second most powerful man in the village, some of the villagers still thought of me as an outsider, causing me to not wander out where not needed. Only on occasions when the village gathered together did I see the woman my husband loved though she never paid any mind to me.

Guilt ate at my bones as I watched my husband rummage around in a chest, looking for something or another. I had yet to announce the child to him, even as winter melted away into spring. A small part of my thought to not yet tell him and to keep this child mine as long as I could, but Lára thought this to be foolish. A man deserves to know of his son, she had whispered to me after the snowfall, her eyes watching my husband as he assisted hers in repairing the longhouse roof.

Jón slammed the chest he was searching in closed, causing me to jump and turn my full attention his way. His mouth was turned down in a grimace and his eyes were harsh as they cast around the room. "Woman," he addressed me, his voice gruff, "where is a flint?"

"They are where they have always been," I told him, reaching high on a shelf for one. As I stretched I was very aware of my dress pressing close to my body. My stomach had begun to round and grow bigger, though the changes were not visible in my every day wear. Jón had yet to couple with me since the winter and each night I feared he would, only to find out my secret.

As I turned and held out the flint to him, I caught Jón's eyes staring at my stomach before flashing quickly to my face. Ours eyes locked for a long moment before Jón took the flint and left the house. My breath caught in my throat. Had he noticed the subtle roundness of my stomach? I could no longer keep the secret of our child to myself, I would soon be forced to tell Jón.

Running a hand over my stomach, I shook my head. There had to be something I could do to keep my mind from my child and husband. After glancing around the house for some idea of what I could accomplish, I decided to visit Lára and retrieve the clothing Oddi had outgrown.

The wind blew cold from the off the water and my feet sunk into the fresh mud, making the walk across the village a difficult one. Nodding to the villagers as they passed me by, one lone figure walking towards me caught my attention. The blonde hair that stuck out from the hood of her cape shone even with the sun hiding behind thick clouds. As her eyes landed on my person her plump lips turned up into a smile.

"Góðan daginn, Valdís," María called as she came to stop in front of me.

Never had I been forced to speak to this woman before. I opened my mouth to speak but no words came from me. Why did this woman have such an effect on my wits? "Heil, Maria."

"It is not a nice day, should you be out?"

"I must see Lára," I told her with tight lips.

"Yes, you have gotten quite close to the chieftain and his wife, have you not?" The other woman cocked her head to the side and pressed her fingers to her lips. "There has been a question I have wondered since you have arrived: how did you find this village?"

Pressing my lips together, I tried to keep my anger and astonishment to myself. Did she resent me for marrying Jón, though our nuptials had been all but willing? The woman had her own husband, yet she still sought after mine. She baffled me with the friendliness she showed towards Jón but her Ragnar did nothing to stop her.

"...Jón at?"

The sound of my husband's name on this other woman's lips snapped my attention to her, only to find that she was still speaking. Having grown tired of being in her presence, I pulled back my shoulders and held my head high. "I do not see how it is any concern of yours as to where my husband is." I pushed past Maria and attempted to resume my walk to Lára's when her last words met my ears.

"Does Jón know?" I turned to find her nodding towards my stomach. A wicked look crossed her face and my stomach twisted into a sickening knot. "Do not think you can force his love onto you."

oOo

"What if my child is not a boy?" I whispered, cupping both of my hands around my stomach. I sat on one of the long benches that lined the walls of the chieftain's long house, his wife sitting across from me with their son in her arms.

A patient look, the same she gave to her children when trying to teach them, crossed Lára's face. "Did you know I have been married to Stefán for fourteen harvests?" When I shook my head she continued. "I had lost three of my unborn children before Ingrid was born, but she was a girl, a man needs sons."

The babe on her lap closed his eyes, his breaths slowing as he fell into a slumber. Lára stood and placed him in his basket before sitting next to me, her eyes now staring blankly at the brightly burning fire. "Soon after she was born, I was ready to conceive again. I knew it was a boy, everything was much different from Ingrid. I grew fat with child and I birthed him." Lára's strong voice trembled as did her hands as she clutched them tightly together. "He was born dead."

A single tear slipped down my cheek as I watched the pain this woman was going through. She had always acted stronger than any man, yet she held a sadness deep inside her.

"I was fearful. Perhaps the Gods had seen it fit that I would not bear my husband any sons. But for the wife of a man – a chieftain, no less – to give him no sons... I was certain I would be replaced as his wife. But Stefán did not dispose of me. Every night I prayed to the Gods for my son, telling them I would give any sacrifice to fill my womb with many sons. When the twins came screaming into the world, you would think they were both sons for the smile Stefán gave them. He was proud then and again when Margrét was born. I have never seen a man cherish his daughters as he does." A small smile came to Lára's face. "But Oddi, he is a true blessing from the Gods; the saviour of our family."

"I am glad you have gotten your son," I told her, reaching out and patting her hands. "A better boy could not be found."

Lára shook her head. "Enough of my past, we are in the present now. What has brought you to my door in such a hurry?"

"Maria told me I could not force Jón to love me; she knew of our child. Why does she not have any children of her own?"

Lára gave a sigh. "I have heard many stories concerning her. Some say she is barren and cannot give her husband any children."

I raised an eyebrow. "Then why would Ragnar stay with her?"

"She brought much to him when they were wed, perhaps he does not wish to lose all of her wears?" She shrugged her shoulders. "I have also heard – do not believe all that you hear – that there are plants to stop breeding."

I was taken aback by the words that Lára said. "Do you truly believe she would do such a thing to her husband?"

Lára gave her head a small shake. "I do not know, it was only common talk. Perhaps this is her retaliation against her husband for not being with Jón." A frown came to the woman's lips and her forehead creased with disapproval. "Do not trust Maria. She will do anything to get what she desires."

oOo

"Remove your clothing," Jón demanded as he watched my reflection in the mirror, throwing water over his face.

A small sigh escaped me as my stomach turned. He had not touched me for weeks and it was only to be expected that he would want me now. I kept my face blank as I slowly removed my dress and apron, my eyes locked with his. When the clothing pooled at my feet, Jón turned and walked around the bed turning to me face him.

He brought a large hand up to my stomach, sending warmth through me as he ran over the curve of it. He studied the stretched pale skin, his brow furrowed.

No longer was the secret of our child mine to keep. "I am with child," I blurted out, bring my hand to my stomach to cover his own.

Jón's eyes met with mine, filled with something I could not place. I pulled his hand away from mine, taking the warm feeling with him. Straightening up his eyes searched my face, though his expression was far away and his mouth gaped open in awe. It was the first time since I had met him that I had seen my husband at a loss for words. His muscles were tight as he made a small move towards me, stopping himself before he could touch me. Without uttering a word Jón turned and pushed away the curtain, disappearing from my sight. I could hear the door open and close, leaving me alone in the house.

What had just occurred? I could not tell if Jón was pleased with the news of our child or if it angered him. From where I stood I could clearly see my reflection in the mirror. My skin was smooth and pale in the light of the torches. My hand lay on the tight skin of my stomach where my child was growing.

Was it possible that Jón would care for our child as Stefán cared for his? With a grimace I imagined if the child was a girl. He would not be happy and there was even a chance he would leave me. But that had been what I wanted when we had first wed. Why was it that the thought now made me nauseas?

oOo

I awoke in the dead of night to a hand on my thigh. The room was dimly lit by a newly fed fire, telling me that my husband had only just returned. The hand moved slowly towards the apex between my thighs, but I continued fawning sleep, trying to keep my breathing even. Despite my efforts I jumped when his fingers stroked the sensitive skin, the touch so unlike his own.

Momentarily giving way to the touch, I gave a small sigh and found the courage to brush his hand away and turn to face him. "Tell me, Jón, are you pleased with my breeding?" I asked, fixing the blankets so they blocked my body from his. He being satisfied was the only reason I could see he had for caressing my body.

"If you carry a son," he said, bringing his hands above the blankets to lie at his sides.

Pushing myself up into a sitting position and furrowed my brows at the man next to me. "And what if it is a daughter?"

"What use do we have for a girl?"

Anger and the smallest bit of fear filled my being. In the times of our forefathers, not long ago, it was almost expected to leave infants to die. Most were deformed or bastards or born to the poor, but it had been known for some to expose their daughters as sacrifices for sons. I knew my husband was not a man who would do that, but his words still send a shiver trickling down my spine.

"I will be pleased with any child I conceive, male or female – even if you are the father."

Jón let out a harsh laugh, his mouth turning into an ugly smirk. "I will be the only father. Who else could there be? That boy you speak of when you sleep?" he spat out the last sentence, showing me what was bothering him.

But I had no expected the words that came from his mouth. I had no knowledge of what I said while I slept or even that I did. "Pétur?" I whispered, glancing sidelong at Jón.

"Who is he?" No longer was Jón's voice low, instead it held bitterness and he spat out the words as if they left a bad taste in his mouth.

I felt defensive as Jón asked about the man I had loved. There was no need for his name to ever cross over my husband's lips, but Jón was just that – my husband. "He was my betrothed." My voice was small, no more than a whisper. "In the village where I lived."

Jón would not met my eyes, but instead stared at the ceiling beams above. I could see his muscles were tight under his taut skin and his jaw was set firmly.

"It had been our wedding day when the raiders came, though we did not have a chance to wed. I saw him die." I gave a shuddering sigh. Saying the words aloud finally made them true. "Please... I do not wish to speak of this."

Jón's body did not move, but his head gave the smallest nod. It was with that tiniest action that I saw humility in my husband.

Sinking back into the bed I pulled the blankets tightly around me and turned my back on Jón. In the seasons that passed since our marriage, Jón and I had never had a proper conversation. Jón had stayed his gruff self, but he had conversed with me. He had made me admit that Pétur would not be returning to me; that he could not have escaped. Not knowing what to say, I simply whispered, "Thank you."